Rose Weasley reads Philosopher's Stone
by M-Dub 720
Summary: When staying with her muggle grandparents, Rose finds a series of books written about her uncle. Do these books hold the truth? Is this really why her family is so famous?
1. Happy Birthday, Rose!

**Firstly, this has nothing to do with my other story.**

**Secondly, I am not J.K. Rowling.**

**Thirdly, there is a point to this, but the actual plot comes later. This just sets up the story.**

**Fourthly, I want to dedicate this to my dentist, Dr. Burch. In March, he gave me a gift card to Borders after the first time in 3 years he saw me without a book, at his office or at church (he goes to my church). It's not my fault that my mom wouldn't believe I could read **_**Twilight **_**in one day and finished half an hour before I left for my appointment.**

**But, yeah, Dr. Burch is awesome, despite the fact that he's a dentist.**

**Pardon my rambling. Enjoy!**

* * *

"_Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Ro-ose! Happy birthday to you!" _all the Weasleys, Potters, Grangers, and a few others sang. Rose let out a sigh of happiness before blowing out her candles.

_They _finally _remembered to not call me Rosie! _She thought happily as she came up with a wish. She settled on, _I wish for Scorpius to think of me as more than a friend this year, _as she blew out the fourteen candles placed on the enormous cake in front of her (it had to be enormous to feed all 33 of them).

Soon after the cake was served, the presents were piled around her as Rose sat on the top step on the front porch of the Burrow. From Grandma and Grandpa Granger she got a savings bond, for which she had to fake enthusiasm; Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey gave her a diary, notebook, address book, and pen set with a design of brightly colored polka dots that she actually liked (_Aunt Audrey probably picked it out_, she decided); her dad, Uncle Harry, Uncle George, and Uncle Charlie gave her a sort of tapestry that was red, had the words to the song "Weasley Is Our Queen" written in gold (it even sang when you tapped it with a wand). Soon she had unwrapped all of but one present.

"Happy birthday, Rosie," said Granddad Weasley when he handed her a small gift bag. Rose smiled; only two people were allowed to call her Rosie: Dad and Granddad.

She pulled out the tissue paper and fond a gift card for a muggle bookstore. "Oh, that's wonderful, Rose dear," Grandmother Granger approved. "You can use it when you come to visit us next week." Rose groaned internally; she had been trying to forget about the trip that she and Hugo would be taking to their muggle grandparents' house in London.

* * *

"WHSmith? What the heck is that?" Scorpius asked as he inspected the plastic card when some of the family members began to leave. "What does this little rectangle do?"

"Scorpius, you _really _need to visit the muggle world more often," Rose's best friend, Samantha, said.

"I can buy things with it," Rose explained to him. "Figures Granddad would give me a _muggle _present."

"Maybe we underestimate muggles," Albus said.

"Maybe you spend too much time with Granddad," Rose countered.

"I'm just saying, maybe they know better than we give them credit for."

* * *

**Hey, I do actually have a point for this. If I just started the story from when she finds the book then it would seem entirely random for her to be with her grandparents at a muggle ****bookstore. Sorry this is so short. It's just the background stuff. I'll get to the plot soon, I promise.**


	2. A Week With the Grandparents

**Hey! Sorry for the delay. I'll try to update sooner from now on. (I'm not sure that resolution will stick, but I'll try.)**

**I'm not J.K. Rowling (unfortunately).**

* * *

To Rose, the week at the Grangers' house was very boring. The highlight of the week was the day before she went home.

Hugo and Rose Side-Along Apparated to their grandparents' house with their parents on the Monday following her birthday. Rose immediately began counting down in her head to when her parents would pick them up on Saturday morning.

On Monday and Tuesday, she and Hugo were ushered all around London like tourists, as if they had not been there exactly 42 times before. For the next three days, the two were told to choose what to do that day. On Wednesday, Hugo chose to go on the London Eye. On Thursday, Rose picked the Tower of London.

On Friday, the four of them split up. Hugo went with Grandpa for the afternoon, and Rose went with Gran to the bookstore.

Gran knew exactly what she was looking for and headed off to a shelf halfway through the store the moment they walked in. Rose, however, wandered a bit. In a few minutes, she had meandered over to a section filled with fantasy novels. She glanced at the titles as she walked down the line of books, and she stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted a familiar name.

_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_ was written down the spine of a red and blue book. She barely had time to register that there were several books there with her uncle's name on them when she heard her grandmother calling her name.

"Rose, have you found anything? Are you ready to go?" Gram's voice was approaching. Rose grabbed _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone _and the book next to it, entitled _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_, and almost walked right into her grandmother on her way to the check-out line.

"Did you find anything interesting, dear?" Gran asked as Rose slipped the nearly used-up gift card back into her jeans pocket.

"I think so," Rose answered, still in shock.

"Well, we'd better go. I promised your grandfather we would meet them for dinner," Gran said. During the car ride to the restaurant, the same question kept repeating itself in her mind: _Why is Uncle Harry's name on a _Muggle _book?_ She couldn't wait to get back to the house where she could look through the books alone.

* * *

Unfortunately, Rose didn't get the chance to look at the books before she left her grandparents' house. As soon as they got back from dinner, Gran insisted that they make sure they had everything before they left in the morning. Rose was able to track down all of her things rather easily, but once her bag was packed she had to help Hugo. It took all four of them an hour to find his copy of _Quidditch through the Ages_, which had, of course, been on top of the dresser of the guest room the entire time.

Right as Rose was about to head back to her mother's old room, where she had been sleeping, Grandpa asked her to join him in having cookies and milk. ("What your Gram doesn't know won't hurt her," he laughed conspiratorially.) Of course, Rose, being the chocolate addict her grandfather knew she was, couldn't refuse when he pulled out the bag of chocolate chip cookies.

By the time Rose and Grandpa had gotten rid of any evidence that they had had cookies, she was exhausted. She fell asleep instantly and woke up with just enough time to get dressed and brush her teeth when she heard the loud cracks in the living room that announced the arrival of her parents. She grabbed her bag and rushed to living room to go home.

* * *

"Welcome back!" Sam shouted as she stepped out of the fireplace. Rose had just finished unpacking when Samantha's head had appeared in the fire, asking if she could come over.

"Thanks! Al and Scorpius are coming over soon, and I have something to show you guys," Rose said.

"It's not another Holyhead Harpies poster, is it?" Sam asked cautiously. "Because they're a great team and all, but there are only so many times you can see posters of the same seven people. I don't know how you can live in your room; it's practically wallpapered in Harpies posters–"

"No, it's not another Harpies poster, I have them all already," Rose cut her off. "It's a book about Uncle Harry."

"What's so special about that? He's the youngest Auror ever and the youngest Head Auror ever." Albus had just stepped out from the hearth, closely followed by Scorpius.

"I didn't get it at Flourish and Blotts. The book came from a _Muggle _bookstore." Her cousin and two friends just stared at her.

* * *

**PLEASE REVIEW! Come on, all you have to do is press that little button down there and type some things. It's not so hard.**


	3. The Boy Who Lived

**Anything in bold (other than author's notes) is not mine. It belongs to the wonderful and brilliant J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

"Rose, there must be a mistake. Dad could only be well-known in _our _world. He's hardly been in the Muggle world since he was in primary school," argued Al.

"I know that. Look, I'll just go get the books out of my bag and I'll prove it to you," Rose said, and she set off for her room. She returned a few minutes later with _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_. "Now do you believe me?" she asked while she held out the book in front of her.

Scorpius took the book from her, looked at the back cover and read aloud. "'Harry Potter thinks he is an ordinary boy – until he is rescued by a beetle-eyed giant of a man, enrolls at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, learns to play Quidditch and does battle in a deadly duel. The Reason… HARRY POTTER IS A WIZARD!' Your dad grew up with Muggles, didn't he?" he asked Al.

"Yeah."

"Well, this could be true. If he didn't know about magic 'til he came to Hogwarts, then this might've happened," Sam reasoned.

"I think it's worth looking into. Even if it's wrong, it might be entertaining," said Scorp.

"Let's go out to the tree house. We can read it up there with anyone bothering us," Rose suggested, and the other three followed her to the backyard.

"Who wants to read first?" Albus asked when they were all settled in the tree house.

"I will," Scorp volunteered.

**Chapter One**

**The Boy Who Lived**

"Wait. The boy who lived? What does that old bedtime story have to do with Uncle Harry?" Rose interrupted.

"He is the boy who lived," answered Scorp. "Didn't you know that?"

"No, I didn't know. You knew? I didn't know you knew that. Why didn't you tell us that you knew that?

"I didn't know you didn't know. Why didn't you let me know you didn't know?"

"I didn't know you didn't know that we didn't know."

Al leaned over to Sam. "Are you following any of this?"

"Nope," she answered simply, her eyes still on the pair in front of them.

"Well, now that you know, I think I'll keep reading," Scorpius said.

**Mr and Mrs Dursley, of **–

"The _Dursleys_? This is starting out with the Dursleys? Who wants to hear about them?" Al interjected, but Scorp ignored him.

**number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal,**

Al snorted.

**thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they simply didn't hold with such nonsense.**

**Mr Dursley was**

"An ass?" Albus supplied.

**the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. **

Scorp stopped here to shoot Rose an inquiring look. "It's a tool that Muggles use to put holes in things like wood," she answered the unasked question.

**He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache. Mrs Dursley was **

"Annoying, and never looks me or Dad in the eyes," Al put in.

**thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbours. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.**

"Who names their kid Dudley?" Scorpius asked, looking up.

"Great-aunt Petunia," Al responded, smiling slightly.

**The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. **

"What's wrong with Potters?" Albus interrupted again.

"Nothing, Al," Samantha said to make him stop.

**Mrs Potter was Mrs Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. **

"Is 'unDursleyish' even a word?" Sam asked.

"No," Scorpius and Rose answered at the same time.

**The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbours would say if the Potter arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen them. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.**

"Potter children are wonderful," Al declared, "unlike Dursley children. Stupid Dianne," he muttered the last part under his breath.

**When Mr and Mrs Dursley woke up on the dull, grey Tuesday our story stars, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work –**

"Why would someone deliberately pick their most boring tie for work?" Rose wondered aloud.

**and Mrs Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.**

**None of them noticed a large tawny owl flutter past the window.**

"Why should they? What's the big deal about owls?"

"They're Muggles, Scorp," Rose explained. "They don't use owl post."

**At half past eight, Mr Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs Dursley on the cheek and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. 'Little tyke,' chortled Mr Dursley as he left the house.**

"Brat," the four said in unison.

**He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.**

**It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar – a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr Dursley didn't realise what he had seen – then he jerked **

**his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light.**

"Couldn't our parents' old transfiguration teacher at schoolturn into a cat?" Scorpius asked.

**Mr Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said **_**Privet Drive **_**– no, **_**looking **_**at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs.**

"Unless they're transfiguration teachers in disguise," Albus amended.

**Mr Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove towards town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.**

**But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. **

"What's so weird about people in cloaks?" Scorpius inquired.

"Muggles don't typically wear cloaks," Rose replied.

**Mr Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes – the get-ups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. **

"We're not weirdos!" Scorp and Al yelled together.

**They were whispering excitedly together. Mr Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt – these people were obviously collecting for something…yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on, and a few minutes later, Mr Dursley arrived in the Grunnings car park, his mind back on drills.**

"How sad! His only interesting thoughts have left his little pea-brain," Sam said, faking sympathy. The others snickered.

**Mr Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. **_**He**_** didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointer and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. **

"Why are people being so careless with all the owl post? Didn't they realize Muggles would notice?" Sam questioned.

**Most of them had never seen an owl even at night-time. Mr Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more.**

"He enjoys shouting at people?"

**He was in a very good mood until lunch-time, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun at the baker's opposite.**

**He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. **

"What's his problem with witches and wizards?" Samantha asked.

"Dunno," said Al. "He's still like that, though. He was there last summer when Dad took us to visit Dudley. I have never seen anyone go from purple to green in two seconds. Apparently he didn't know that we were visiting him that day. I have never seen Dad laugh so hard."

**This lot were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.**

"Well, of course he did; they were talking to him! They were saying, 'Vernon Dursley you need to mind your own business.'"

"You're one to talk, Al," Sam said, glaring at him.

"Sorry, but you just left your diary lying there! How was I supposed to know it was your diary?"

"Three reasons: One, it says 'Property of Samantha Thomas' on it. Two, it was locked! THREE, IT WAS ON MY DRESSER IN MY DORMITORY! HOW DID YOU EVEN GET IN THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE?"

Albus's response of "long story" was barely audible as he shrunk into the corner of the tree house.

Scorp smirked slightly at the look of terror on Al's face and Sam, who was beginning to calm down, and he continued reading.

'**The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard -'**

'**- yes, their son, Harry -'**

**Mr Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. **

Scorpius glanced at Al, who was beginning to straighten up and adjust his glasses.

**He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.**

"He can think?" Sam joked. Her rage had abated as quickly as it came.

**He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his moustache, thinking… no, he was being stupid. **

"Surprise, surprise," both girls said.

**Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure his nephew **_**was **_**called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. **

"Imagine if one of those _was _his name," Al said, shuddering. "My father, Harold Potter. It sounds weird."

"Yeah. Uncle Harvey. Definitely weird," Rose agreed.

**There was no point in worrying Mrs Dursley, she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her – if **_**he'd **_**had a sister like that…but all the same, those people in cloaks…**

**He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon, – **

"Oh no! The horror! The tragedy!" Samantha yelled dramatically. When her friends laughed, she went on, exclaiming, "Guys! This is serious! He can't focus on drills! The whole world shall perish!" She pretended to faint in fear, but the effect was ruined when she started giggling hysterically as well.

When Scorp got his breath back, he continued.

**and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the front door.**

'**Sorry,' he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr Dursley realised that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passers-by stare: 'Don't be sorry, my dear **

**sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!'**

"This must be the first time old Moldyshorts was defeated."

**And the old man hugged Mr Dursley around the middle and walked off.**

"Ugh, I hope he washed himself off after that," said Rose. "Just think! Dursley germs!"

**Mr Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.**

"He doesn't approve of imagination? How can a person not approve of imagination?" Sam cried incredulously.

**As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw – and it didn't improve his mood – **

"What _does _improve his mood? Other than shouting at people, that is."

**was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.**

'**Shoo!' said Mr Dursley loudly.**

**The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behaviour, Mr Dursley wondered. **

"Nope," said Rose, thinking of her own kitten, Crookshanks the Third.

**Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.**

**Mrs Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs Next Door's problems with her daughter**

"Why should she care if the next door neighbor is having problems with her daughter?" Sam screeched. She was becoming _very _annoyed with the Dursleys.

**and how Dudley had learnt a new word ('Shan't!'). **

"Brat," Rose repeated.

**Mr Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living-room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:**

'**And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.' **

"Experts might not be able to, but I can. Two words: owl post."

"We know, Al. Please keep reading, Scorp."

**The news reader allowed himself a grin. 'Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?**

'**Well, Ted,' said the weatherman, 'I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early – it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight.'**

"What? Is he a Seer now?"

"Shut up, Al!"

**Mr Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters…**

"Again, what's wrong with Potters?" Al barked.

"Nothing, Al. Shut up and listen to the story," Sam commanded. Albus opened his mouth to retort, but reconsidered and closed it again.

**Mrs Dursley came into the living-room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. 'Er – Petunia, dear – you haven't heard from you sister lately, have you?**

**As he had expected, Mrs Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.**

"Why should she pretend she doesn't have a sister? Her sister ended up a Potter, and Potters are amazing."

"You just keep thinking that Al," said Sam.

'**No," she said sharply. 'Why?'**

'**Funny stuff on the news,' Mr Dursley mumbled. 'Owls…shooting stars…and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…'**

'_**So?' **_**snapped Mrs Dursley.**

'**Well, I just thought…maybe…it was something to do with you know…**_**her lot**_**.'**

"'_Her _lot? Why can't he say witches and wizards? It's not that hard!"

**Mrs Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name 'Potter'. He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, 'Their son – he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?'**

'**I suppose so,' said Mrs Dursley stiffly.**

'**What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?'**

"_Howard_? Why can't he get the name right? It's _Harry_!" Al was really starting to become agitated.

'**Harry. Nasty common name if you ask me.'**

"It might be common, but at least it's not a ridiculous name like Dudley," Scorpius, always the calmest of the group, said to the book.

'**Oh, yes,' said Mr Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. 'Yes, I quite agree.'**

**He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it was waiting for something.**

"Who knows? It could be, if it's an animagus."

**Was he imagining things?**

"What happened to not approving of imagination? Hhmmmm?"

"Sam, did you have sugar on your cereal this morning?" Rose asked her friend.

"Maybe," Sam replied, looking at the floor.

**Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did…if it got out that they were related to a pair of – well, he didn't think he could bear it.**

**The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that **

**even if the Potters **_**were **_**involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs Dursley. **

"Unless they were getting revenge against their awful relatives," Scorpius added, looking up.

**The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought of their kind… **

"Why can't he just say witches and wizards?" Sam asked again.

**He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on. He yawned and turned over. It couldn't affect **_**them**_**…**

**How very wrong he was.**

"Ha!"

**Mr Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness.**

"Of course not; it had as much coffee and sugar as Sam had this morning," said Scorpius.

**It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed in the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before cat moved at all.**

**A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.**

**Nothing like this man had ever been seen in Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak, which swept the ground and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice.**

"Sounds like the picture of Dumbledore that I saw on the Chocolate Frog card."

**This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.**

"Congrats, Al. You got it right," laughed Scorp.

**Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realise that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. **

"I resent that part about the name," said Albus.

**He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realise he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. **

**He chuckled and muttered, 'I should have known.'**

**He had found what he looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. **

"I think that's my dad's Deluminator," said Rose. "If I remember correctly–"

"Which you always do," Sam added.

"– Dad got it from Dumbledore when he died."

**He clicked it again – the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, **

"Very creative name," Scorpius interrupted himself.

**until the only light left in the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Out back inside his cloak and set off down the street towards number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.**

'**Fancy meeting you here, Professor McGonagall.'**

"You were right, Scorp. It was our parents' old professor."

**He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald on. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.**

'**How did you know it was me?' she asked.**

"He's psychic," Sam joked.

'**My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly.'**

'**You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day,' said Professor McGonagall.**

'**All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here.'**

**Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.**

'**Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right,' she said impatiently. 'You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no – even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news.' She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. 'I heard it. Flocks of owls…shooting stars…Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent – I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. **

"That name sounds familiar," Al thought aloud. "I think he's had dinner with us a few times.

**He never had much sense.'**

"No, he doesn't have any sense."

'**You can't blame them,' said Dumbledore gently. 'We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years.'**

'**I know that,' said Professor McGonagall irritably. 'But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumours.'**

**She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell he something, but he didn't, so she went on: 'A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really **_**has **_**gone, Dumbledore?'**

"No, he decided to play hide-and-seek with the Death Eaters," Rose said dryly.

'**It certainly seems so,' said Dumbledore. 'We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a sherbet lemon?**

'**A **_**what**_**?'**

'**A sherbet lemon. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of.'**

"Al, I think your namesake was weird," Scorp said plainly.

"I know he was weird," Al concurred.

'**No, thank you,' said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for sherbet lemons. 'As I say, even if You-Know-Who **_**has **_**gone -'**

'**My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? **

"Or you can at least call him what we call him: Moldyshorts," said Scorpius.

**All this "You-Know-Who" nonsense – for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: **_**Voldemort**_**.' Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two sherbet lemons, seemed not to notice. 'It all gets so confusing if we keep saying "You-Know-Who". I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name.'**

"You may not have, but Dad certainly seems to be scared of it."

"Oh, yeah," Al remembered the last time someone his Dad had said, "Voldemort," in front of Uncle Ron. "Rose, do you remember last Christmas?"

"Yep," she said, smiling. "Dad knocked the Christmas tree onto Victoire, who fell over onto Snuffles, who ran away into Uncle Percy, who fell to the ground, tripping Grandmum, sending the enormous roast chicken she was carrying onto James's head," she explained to the non-relatives. "Best. Christmas. Ever."

Scorp laughed and went back to the book.

'**I know you haven't,' said Professor McGonagall, sounding half-exasperated, half-admiring. 'But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know – oh, all right, **_**Voldemort**_** – was frightened of.'**

'**You flatter me,' said Dumbledore calmly. 'Voldemort had powers I will never have.'**

'**Only because you're too – well – noble to use them.'**

'**It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs.'**

Al's friends all shot him looks, which he tried to ignore.

"Oookkkaaaaaaaayyy," said Scorpius.

**Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, 'The owls are nothing to the **_**rumours**_** that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?'**

**It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. **

"Then why didn't she just get to the point when he got there?" Scorp asked. "Why'd she wait?"

**It was plain that whatever 'everyone' was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another sherbet lemon and did not answer.**

"Very nice, Dumbles," Sam said sarcastically.

'**What they're **_**saying**_**,' she pressed on, 'is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumour is that Lily and James are – are – that they're – **_**dead**_**.'**

Sam and Rose glanced at Al, who was focusing on the cover of the book.

**Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.**

'**Lily and James…I can't believe it…I didn't want to believe it…Oh, Albus…'**

**Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. 'I know…I know…' he said heavily.**

**Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. 'That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But – he couldn't. **

"Of course he couldn't. Dad's immune to death."

**He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why,**

"Because Uncle Harry is just that awesome."

**or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power broke – and that's why he's gone.'**

**Dumbledore nodded glumly.**

'**It's – it's **_**true**_**?' faltered Professor McGonagall. 'After all he's done…all the people he's killed…he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding…of all the things to stop him…but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?'**

"Because if he didn't live long enough for Al to be born, we wouldn't have anyone for Sam to scare when we're bored," Scorp said, smiling slightly. **(A.N.: Try saying that five times fast.)**

'**We can only guess,' said Dumbledore. 'We may never know.'**

**Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. **

"It's not that odd. Dad has one just like it."

"Odd to Muggles, Scorp."

**It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, 'Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?'**

'**Yes,' said Professor McGonagall. 'And I don't suppose you're going to tell me **_**why **_**you're here of all places?'**

'**I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now.'**

'**You don't mean – you **_**can't **_**mean the people who live **_**here**_**?' **

"No, he means his relatives too houses over," Scorp uttered sardonically.

**cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. 'Dumbledore – you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son – I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. **

"I wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore screamed for sweets when he was little, too," Rose considered aloud.

"Or at least asked politely," said Sam.

**Harry Potter come and live here!'**

'**It's the best place for him,' said Dumbledore firmly. 'His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter.'**

'**A letter?' repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. 'Really Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? **

"Of course he can. He's named Albus, and everyone knows that people named Albus are brilliant and have a way with words."

"Uh huh, Al, sure," Sam muttered sarcastically.

**These people will never understand him! He'll be famous – a legend – I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter Day in the future – **

"I'm not sure how Dad would react to Harry Potter Day," Al said thoughtfully.

**there will be books written about Harry – **

"Like the one I'm holding, perhaps?"

**every child in our world will know his name!'**

"The ones in this tree house certainly do."

'**Exactly,' said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. 'It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?'**

"Clearly he had never met the Dursleys before," Al said bitterly.

**Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, **

"No! Don't change your mind!"

**swallowed and then said, 'Yes – yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?' She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.**

"How would he hide a baby in his cloak?" Al asked, bewildered.

"He didn't, Al," said Sam, annoyed.

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm brilliant," she answered cheekily.

'**Hagrid's bringing him.'**

'**You think it – **_**wise**_** – to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?'**

"Yes, because Hagrid's great," Rose said defiantly.

'**I would trust Hagrid with my life,' said Dumbledore.**

'**I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place,' said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, 'but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to – what was that?'**

"What was what?" Al asked, sitting up, suddenly alert.

"Shut up, and I'll tell you," Scorpius replied, agitated. He was getting tired of being interrupted every three seconds.

**A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky – and a huge motorbike fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.**

"Sounds like Dad's old motorbike that he keeps in the shed," Albus said, ignoring the groan that Scorpius let out in aggravation. "I've only seen it fly once, though: last Easter when James stole it. Dad was furious, and I've never seen Grandmum so angry before. First, she yelled at James for a few minutes for taking it out of the shed and flying it; then, she yelled at Dad a few more minutes for still having it in working condition where we could get it; then she yelled at Granddad 'til she was hoarse for fixing it in the first place, whatever that means."

"Al," Rose started.

"SHUT UP!" she, Scorpius, and Samantha screamed at the same time.

"Is everything okay up there?" Rose heard her mother yell to the occupants of the tree house.

"Yes, Aunt Hermione!" Al answered, and they went back to reading.

**If the motorbike was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so **_**wild **_**– long tangles of bushy black hair hid most of his face, he had hands the size of dustbin lids and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins.**

"Hagrid hasn't changed much, has he?" asked Sam cheerfully.

"Not really," Rose replied.

**In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.**

'**Hagrid,' said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. 'At last. And where did you get that motorbike?'**

"I think it used to belong to Sirius before he died," Al said thoughtfully.

"I wasn't asking you, Al," said Scorp said wearily.

'**Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir,' said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorbike as he spoke. 'Young Sirius Black lent it to me. **

"I was right!"

"Woo-hoo," Rose said dully, rolling her eyes.

**I've got him, sir.'**

'**No problems, were there?'**

'**No sir – house was almost destroyed but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol.'**

**Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.**

"Dad," Al said softly. Not softly enough, though.

"We know, Albus," Samantha said stiffly.

'**Is that where -?' whispered Professor McGonagall.**

'**Yes,' said Dumbledore. 'He'll have that scar for ever.'**

"So that's where he got that scar. I've always wondered," said Rose.

"How come you don't shush her?" Al cried indignantly.

"Because cause pointless interruptions every other sentence," Sam snapped back.

'**Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?'**

'**Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in useful. I have one myself above my left knee which is a perfect map of the London Underground. **

"Okay, too much information," said Scorp.

**Well – give him here, Hagrid – we'd better get this over with.'**

**Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned towards the Dursleys' house.**

"Don't do it!" Sam cried dramatically.

Al shushed her. She made a face in reply and turned back to Scorpius.

'**Could I – could I say goodbye to him, sir?' asked Hagrid.**

**He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.**

"Aaawww," the girls said in unison.

'**Shhh!' hissed Professor McGonagall. 'You'll wake the Muggles!'**

"Said the woman who was crying only a couple minutes before," Sam muttered.

"But she wasn't howling like Hagrid," Rose said reasonably.

"Still, she is being a bit of a hypocrite," Al agreed with Sam.

'**S-s-sorry,' sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. 'But I can't stand it – Lily an' James dead – an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles –'**

'**Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found,' Professor McGonagall whispered, **

"I agree with them; she is being a hypocrite," Scorp conceded, before continuing to read.

**patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took out a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle;**

"And he suddenly got up and did a tap dance," Al added, trying to lighten the mood.

**Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.**

'**Well,' said Dumbledore finally, 'that's that. We've no business staying here.**

"Except to realize what a mistake you're making and take him somewhere else!" Rose cried.

**We may as well go and join the celebrations.'**

'**Yeah,' said Hagrid in a very muffled voice. 'I'd best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall – Professor Dumbledore, sir.'**

**Wiping his tears on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself on to the motorbike and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.**

'**I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall,' said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.**

"Charming," Scorp said sarcastically.

**Dumbledore turned and walked down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.**

'**Good luck, Harry,' he murmured.**

"Yeah, he needs the luck," said Al, who had become bitter again.

**He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak he was gone.**

**A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. **

"I never thought Dad could've ever been a heavy sleeper."

**One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley… He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: 'To Harry Potter – the boy who lived!'**

"So Uncle Harry's the boy who lived. I wonder why he never told us," Rose said to Al, who shrugged his shoulders in reply.

"Who wants to read next?" asked Scorpius.

"I will," Samantha volunteered. As she reached out for the book, they all heard Ron Weasley yell out, "LUNCH TIME!"

"I guess Chapter Two will have to wait until after lunch," Rose said, and they all climbed down the ladder and took the path towards the kitchen door.

* * *

**Yay! I finally got this up! Sorry it took me a couple weeks, but it's here now.**

**You may have noticed that the grammar for the book is exactly as it's found in the British copy, but the grammar for my part of the story is the American grammar. I intend to do it this way for the rest of **_**Philosopher's Stone**_**, but I will switch to the American copies of the books starting with **_**Chamber of Secrets**_**. Sorry if that's weird.**

**Now…****PLEASE REVIEW!****Thank you!**


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